Crossfire
by Muirinn
Summary: While Archer negotiates a difficult away mission, Reed and Sato must keep the Enterprise out of enemy hands.
1. Chapter 1

_Crossfire_

_by Muirinn_

_Summary: While Archer negotiates a difficult away mission, Reed and Sato must keep the Enterprise out of enemy hands._

_Rating: PG-13, or T_

_Disclaimer: Recognizable entities are not my intellectual property. I only borrow them for fun and not for profit._

_Author's Notes: First chapter of an adventure story featuring mostly Malcolm and Hoshi. This one isn't all that involved; it's mostly straight-shooting action with a touch of space opera. Not much high drama here. See? I do write more than drabbles.

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"That didn't work quite the way I'd hoped."

Archer's statement prompted Ensign Travis Mayweather to look up at his captain wearily and (barely) suppress a disbelieving snort. It was T'Pol, however, who voiced his thoughts: "You, sir, tend to hope for much."

Captain Archer snorted, crossed his arms across his chest, and leaned back against the wall of the shuttlepod. "I'm an optimist."

"You know," interjected a voice with a distinctly southern drawl, "I think I have to agree with T'Pol." Archer looked at his chief engineer sharply. Trip Tucker only shrugged. "You do hope for a lot."

Travis wanted to melt into his console. Maybe the ground under them would split and 'pod would drop. Maybe someone would fire on the shuttle. Maybe something would happen. _Anything. Please_. He didn't think he could take much more of his commanding officers bickering.

Bickering that would last another few hours, thanks to a miscommunication. Ensign Sato was, apparently, still a little confused by the measurements of time on Lysander, and they'd landed the shuttlepod several hours before the appointed time. Unfortunately, that happened to be in the middle of the Lysan sleeping cycle, and Archer had elected to kill some time aboard the shuttle rather than return to _Enterprise_. That was, of course, before the admonishment given by the night guard planetside that had put Archer in a mood. When they'd called _Enterprise_ and told them what had happened, Hoshi had been beside herself. It certainly hadn't helped that the captain had snapped at her.

Travis really wasn't sure where he'd rather be: in a shuttlepod with his bickering COs or up on Enterprise's bridge with an upset Communications Officer and a grim-looking Armoury Officer.

The sound of something clattering to the floor brought Travis back to the present and he glanced over his shoulder to see Archer reach down to pick up a PADD. Whether it had been thrown, dropped or chucked at someone's head, Travis couldn't be sure.

"Suddenly, I'm real glad Malcolm isn't here."

Archer paused, fingers curled around the PADD. "That's a horrible thing to say, Trip."

"Oh, c'mon, Captain. You know as well as I do that he'd be impossible in this situation. Prowling around. Pacing. Grumbling. Phase pistol in hand." Trip blinked, and hurriedly added, "Not that I'm happy about what's keeping him on Enterprise. I'm not that callous."

Archer leaned back again, PADD held in loose fingers. "How is he doing, by the way? I haven't had a chance to talk to him since he limped out of sickbay."

Travis bit back a sigh; from one potentially hot topic straight into another. It had only been a few days ago and it hadn't really been Lieutenant Reed's fault; that Andorian had been overly curious about ship's systems. Captain Archer was just a little upset that their Andorian visitor – one young woman among a group of twenty or so travelers – had been escorted to the brig after Tucker and Reed found her tampering with the warp core. The girl, who had turned out to be nothing more than an aspiring engineer, had panicked, pushed a sequence of buttons that still had Trip shaking his head, and sent _Enterprise_ in a tailspin that had the grav plating and the inertial dampeners groaning in protest. Reed had ended up severely twisting his knee, and Trip's bruises were just beginning to fade. Archer hadn't been exactly happy with the situation.

Trip was shrugging. "He's still limping. Says he's fine, of course. Not happy to be left behind, that's for sure."

_Gladly trade places with him_, Travis thought.

"He's got command," Archer said rather crossly. Travis and Tucker cringed while T'Pol quirked an eyebrow. "I'm sure he's happy enough." The captain looked up, taking in the faces of his away team, and sighed. It took a moment, but the hard lines around his mouth and eyes softened and he shrugged broad shoulders. "Let's try to get some rest, shall we?" he said as he settled back. "Glad I didn't bring Porthos."

"For that, we are all thankful, I'm sure."

Archer quirked a mocking eyebrow at T'Pol and smirked. His Vulcan first officer still sat ramrod straight, dark eyes boring into the PADD she held.

Travis leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes. The atmosphere may have lightened a bit, but it was still going to be a long night.

* * *

Ensign Hoshi Sato sat in her chair, her petite form hunched over her Communications console. Her fingers – fingers that usually flew with quick precision – tapped the buttons slowly and deliberately. Of the four people occupying the bridge, she was the only one actively ignoring everyone for her console. Even Malcolm Reed looked up occasionally from the Tactical console and offered an acerbic quip now and again that usually set the ensign at helm to giggling.

Reed surveyed the bridge – his bridge, for the time being – and took stock. It wasn't that there were any problems; in fact, he really didn't expect any. They were running a skeleton crew at the moment; it was still a couple hours before Alpha shift officially started. He and Hoshi were, technically, off shift but she'd been poring over Lysan logs and he didn't feel right napping after being given command. It wasn't until his gaze passed over her for the sixth time that he decided something needed to be done. Her posture was less dedicated hunch and more dejected slump.

Even so, talking across the bridge about personal matters? Shouldn't be done, and Hoshi certainly wouldn't appreciate clearing the air with an ensign and a crewman from Gamma shift present. Normally, he'd walk across the bridge on some pretense or another and speak with her, but moving… He winced. Moving was difficult, no matter how many times he told Phlox he was fine. His knee was still giving him hell, and, just as Hoshi wouldn't want a personal talk across the bridge, he didn't want to hobble across the bridge.

That left a more subtle manner of speaking: console-to-console text. It wasn't used all that often, and definitely frowned upon for personal use. No one would look for it, however, and Hoshi was discreet enough to erase any messages.

Quietly and quickly, he keyed in a message and sent it. _The captain didn't mean it quite like it sounded, I'm sure._

He watched as Hoshi started, frowned, and then looked up at him. With a small smile and a shrug, she only mouthed _I know_ and went back to ignoring everything. He was a little surprised when a reply came through only a few seconds later. _Thank you_, it said. He shrugged; it wouldn't quite do to have a sulking Communications Officer on his watch, but there wasn't much else he could do about it. Maybe it was just his imagination, but when he looked up, her shoulders seemed straighter.

He didn't have time to dwell on it, though. A shudder shot through the ship and set the deck plating to rattling. Hoshi looked up in surprise, hands curling around the edges of her console as the shaking continued. Malcolm toggled a switch on his own console and paged Engineering.

And then paged again when no one answered. With a frown, he switched tactics and tried the Armoury; still nothing.

"Communications are down," Hoshi called out.

Reed looked up and met Hoshi's questioning – and frightened – gaze. "I noticed."

"I didn't have any warning; I'm sorry, Lieutenant."

He shook his head, and turned his eyes upon the young man at the science station. "Crewman?"

"Nothing on the sensors, sir."

"Move us out of orbit."

As the ensign at helm moved to respond, Hoshi spoke. "Lieutenant, our shuttlepod?"

"Will find us, if need be. I don't want to be in orbit with failing systems." Malcolm spared her a glance between checking his own systems. "The gravitational pull could wreak havoc."

The ship was jolted, sending an ill-prepared Hoshi tumbling from her chair. Malcolm stilled, his hands splayed across his console and looking intently at his own scans; nothing. He polarized the hull plating, acting on a suspicion that he hoped wasn't real.

"Helm's not responding, sir."

Hoshi's voice rang out from next to the crewman at T'Pol's normal station. "Our engines are down."

The sensors didn't show a thing, but Malcolm knew one thing; that last jolt had been weapons fire, and now they were dead in the water. "Did we break orbit?"

The helmsman pressed his lips together. "No, sir, and that last jolt changed our heading. Our orbit will deteriorate."

"Time?"

The ensign shrugged. "I'm not sure, sir. I wasn't paying much attention to those readings before they went out, and I'm not entirely certain of our heading."

Malcolm nearly ground his teeth in frustration. "Your best guess?"

"A few hours, at best." Seeing Reed's look, he amended his statement. "Four or five until we experience hull damage."

"That soon?"

"That jolt turned us planetside, sir. Without engines, our momentum will take us down like a shot."

Malcolm nodded. "Hoshi, will our personal communicators work?"

She winced. "They should, but I already tried it. They're useless."

"See what you can do, Hoshi," Malcolm said, eying the viewscreen. "Crewman, transfer your scan results to my station and then get down to Engineering; I need to know what the hell is going on."

Seconds later, the scan results were transferred, and the crewman – unflappable and hurried, God bless him, Malcolm thought – slapped the control panel for the turbolift. Nothing happened.

"Climb down the shaft if you have to," Malcolm snapped before the crewman could even think to ask.

It didn't matter, though; he didn't have time.

_Enterprise_ rocked violently, bulkheads groaning and supports snapping in protest. Lights flickered and went out as consoles – most of them unmanned – exploded in showers of sparks. Malcolm heard a scream and barely had time to see part of the bulkhead beside him buckle. He rolled out of chair, hissing as his knee hit the deck, and sought what cover he could as another explosion ripped through the bridge.

He didn't have time for anything but a curse as something came down on him and drove him to floor. The back of his head throbbed with pain he didn't have time to contemplate before it drove him into darkness.

* * *

_tbc…_

_Please let me know what you think thus far. Reviews motivate me. I am a fan of constructive criticism, as well, so if you see something that doesn't quite work for you, you can let me know._

_Muirinn_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Crossfire**_

_by Muirinn_

_Summary, disclaimer, and rating in the first chapter._

_Thank you to my wonderful reviewers. Many thanks for pointing out my stupid mistake in the first part. I hope you enjoy this second chapter.

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_

Hoshi _hurt_. She hadn't been fortunate enough to lose consciousness when the starship had rocked uncontrollably. She'd been thrown to the floor, her right arm bent beneath her awkwardly, snapping it with seemingly no effort. She could feel something on her cheek, and a strand of dark hair was stuck there. _Stuck in the blood_, she thought, grimacing. She scrambled to her feet, whimpering as something pulled in her side, and then gasping as loose debris shifted beneath her feet. Slowly, painfully, she lifted her gaze to take in the bridge.

"Oh, dear God…" Her voice trailed off as her jaw dropped. She couldn't see much; emergency lighting was all that was available and some of that was covered by dust and debris. What she could see, however, definitely let her know that _Enterprise_ was in a bad way. Consoles were mostly dark, some flickering of light peeking through twisted pieces of metal. Hoshi stumbled toward the turbolift door, where the crewman was lying on the deck. She couldn't suppress a whimper as her foot slipped when she stepped close, and she had visions of blood smeared across the bridge. She shook her head. She was a professional and this was an emergency situation. She would not fall apart now. Her hands were trembling, though, when she touched the crewman's neck. A strangled sob caught in her throat when there was nothing there.

She rocked back on her heels, her left hand over her eyes. "Come on, Sato. Keep it together." She stood up slowly, her hand drifting to the side to find something to grab onto. Check on the others; she had to check on the others.

Helm was easy enough; it was right there, in front of her. The ensign was sprawled on the floor, next to the end of a support beam that stretched from the helm to the tactical console.

_Tactical._

With a gasp, Hoshi took in the damage there. For a second, she stood stock still, frozen in place. She forced herself forward, eyes already roving over that side of the bridge, hoping against hope she'd find Malcolm alive, whole, and able.

She couldn't do this. He had to be there somewhere. She couldn't. She couldn't be alone with only corpses and she certainly couldn't command a dead starship…

A groan broke through her scattered thoughts. Hoshi scrambled forward, her gaze lighting on a long-fingered hand shoving weakly at debris. "Malcolm?" She fell to her knees next to him. "Lieutenant Reed?" Her hand brushed against his as she hurriedly tried to help; it wasn't that she was doing much good, but she had to at least feel like she was helping. She bit her lip, eyes darting around the darkened bridge, before turning her gaze to where Reed lay. "Come on, Lieutenant." _I can't do this on my own._

Reed coughed, and rolled onto his side. When he went to push himself to a sitting position, Hoshi reached out instinctively and yelped as her right arm was jostled. Reed froze, his eyes – eyes that were still somewhat glazed – jumping from Hoshi's face to her arm and back again.

"I'm ok," Hoshi said softly.

He raised a brow, and Hoshi found herself smiling slightly at it; Malcolm and T'Pol had found themselves the butt of many a joke thanks to that particular quirk they shared.

"Really," she continued, her voice still small. "Just didn't think when I moved."

Malcolm shook his head and shifted, biting back a groan as he flexed his knee. "What happened?"

Hoshi's eyes went wide. _He didn't know? _"We were hit by something," she answered, her voice shaking. _Did he have a head injury? Why didn't he remember?_

He blinked. "Not to _Enterprise_. I remember that all too well. What happened to you?"

A sense of relief so profound had Hoshi physically wilting. "I landed wrong." She cast a bemused glance to her arm. "I broke it."

Malcolm offered her a small smile and started to push himself up. Hoshi offered her shoulder, and together, they rose to their feet, Malcolm hissing as he put weight on his knee.

"Did you hurt your knee again?" Hoshi asked, panting, as Malcolm straightened and limped toward the helm.

Reed grunted as he cleared off the helm and prodded a few toggles in vain. "'Again' would imply I was not injured to begin with." He sighed and lightly slapped the console. "What of the others?"

There was silence for a moment; Hoshi couldn't answer right away. Swallowing past a lump that suddenly rose in her throat, she lifted her chin toward the turbolift. "Crewman Stark is dead. I checked on him before I got to you." She gasped. "Ensign Allen! I went right past him." Hoshi stepped around Malcolm to kneel at the helmsman's side, she pressed shaking fingers to his neck and sighed. She looked up, her eyes wide. "He's alive." Hoshi leaned closer, fingers gently probing the back of Allen's head. She grimaced suddenly and pulled her hands back. "He's got quite a head wound. Doctor Phlox will need to see him."

"As well as the rest of the crew, I'm sure," Reed said, sighing. "See what you can do for him; I'll pull out our torches and…" He trailed off, looking around. Truth be told, he didn't even know where to start. If the bridge was any indication as to the condition of the rest of the ship, _Enterprise_ was dead. Casting his gaze about the broken bridge, he sighed and turned to Hoshi. "You know anything about repairing ship's systems?"

Hoshi looked up from where she was struggling with a med-kit stuck in its cubbyhole. "I don't know any about field medicine and I'm about to dress a wound I can't see with one hand." With a yank and a yelp, the med-kit pulled free and Hoshi barely kept from falling backward.

"Let me get a torch, and I'll help you," Reed offered, pushing away from the helm console and limping up to Tactical. He could have saved himself some pain – and unsightly hobbling – and used the Helm's emergency kit, but he'd made a few modifications to Tactical's; his had a phase pistol, extra rations, and more medical supplies (including a painkiller which was sounding pretty damn good about then). After retrieving the light, and grabbing the rest of his kit, he turned around, sighed balefully – moving around was not on his list of fun things to do right now – and hobbled back toward Hoshi and Allen. He handed the light off to Hoshi. "I at least have two hands. You hold, I'll dress."

Hoshi nodded, her left hand wrapping around the light as Reed slowly and stiffly knelt next to her. "What do you think happened?" she asked as he handed him a length of gauze.

He shook his head. "At first I thought it was weapons fire." Fingers more used to weapons gently probed the wound on the side of Allen's head. "Damn. More to the left, please, Ensign."

Hoshi obliged, swallowing as she saw the blood covering the right side of Allen's face. "At first?" she questioned after a moment.

"I polarized the hull plating before that last hit," Malcolm murmured, unfolding a wipe. "I don't think this is quite as bad as it looks."

"The ship or Allen?"

"Allen." Reed pressed the wipe against the wound. "He'll be out for a good long while, I'm sure, but I think it can wait once we get it cleaned."

Hoshi nodded, uncertain if he honestly meant that or if he was trying to reassure her. Even so, she took the statement at face value. "You said you polarized the hull plating?" she asked as she adjusted the light again. "Shouldn't that have protected us?"

He shook his head, frowning. "It's not foolproof, but even so…" He sighed. "I'm not entirely sure what hit us, Hoshi. I thought it was weapons fire at first." His frown deepened. "Something's not adding up. I need to see the sensor logs."

Hoshi pursed her lips. "Good luck with that."

He snorted. "First thing's first." He lifted the bloody wipe and peered at the wound on Allen's temple. "We'll attend to this." He looked up and sighed. "Then we find out what still works."

Hoshi sighed, shook her head. "I have a feeling that's a very short list, Lieutenant." She suddenly shivered as a thought struck her. "I hope life support is still on that list."

"I'm sure it is, Hoshi." She could hear him say the words through a smile. "The grav plating is still functioning, at least."

She couldn't help it. "Oh, thank God," she blurted. Silence met her, but when she looked, Reed was sporting a small smile. "What do we do once we know what's working?"

The smile fell away. "Fix what's not."

Hoshi winced. "Damn."

"My thoughts exactly, Ensign." Reed sighed, and looked around before locking eyes with her. "My thoughts exactly."

* * *

_tbc…_

_Again, thanks to all my reviewers. You make it worth posting. _

_(Yes, I do short chapters. //winces//)_


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